Control
by redandsparkly
Summary: For everyone who's sick to death of Eric or mushy, romantic Bill stories, this is for you. An exploration of the dark side of lust, love and surrender to the whims of a lover. Contains explicit adult content with a twist of BDSM. You have been warned.


CONTROL

AUTHORS NOTE/WARNING:

I wrote this fiction earlier in the year once I had seen some Season 4 pics of King Bill sitting at his Desk of Sexy, and I thought I'd post it here for posterity. This fic contains strong dominance/submission themes and all the kinky shit that goes with it, including er, interesting props. It is a rebellion against endless amounts of slushy, romantic smut I have read on the internets about Bill. I mean what the hell? The guy is crying out for something deliciously BAD.

The woman in the story can be anyone. Think of her as Sookie if it floats your boat, it is entirely up to you. The usual disclaimers apply, I don't own nothin' except a vivid and somewhat sick imagination.

PS, thanks for the unexpected reviews on La Petit Mort!

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><p>I trod carefully on the neat gravelled driveway in my stiletto heels, muttering to myself not to trip and fall over on my butt and ruin my carefully constructed but damn uncomfortable outfit. Tight, restrictive, brazen, not my usual attire for calling on my lover, but this was not a usual night. My head held high but butterflies swarming in my stomach, I paused to look up at the gracious old house looming before me; it's rotting, mildewed timbers replaced, it's flaking paint scraped away for fresh white emulsion, the new black, steel lined shutters still closed against the fragrant night, giving it a hooded, secretive aura. A thin crack of light gleamed from the partly opened double doors, beckoning me inside to face what was there.<p>

I knew he was waiting for me, sitting at his huge oak desk, pretending to work while he listened for my footsteps, the erratic skip of my heartbeat, the surge of predator's instinct prickling the back of his neck as he sensed his prey approach. Fear fought with black, shameful desire for ownership of my body, the heat welling between my thighs, my nipples tightening under the black lace of my bra, but my feet frozen to the spot, wanting to turn me around and make me run like hell. But it would be no use. He had been anticipating this for days, he would catch me in a split second, and having to chase me through the woods instead of coming to him as I had agreed would only make the punishment worse.

I shook myself sternly and carried on, mounting the steps and pushing open the door and entering the cool silence of the house, my silly heels clicking on the polished floorboards. The transformed living room to my right was empty and full of shadows, the red velvet settees and gloomy portraits on the walls the only relics left of the room I knew and loved, the sleek glaze of the new disguising its old, antiquated bones, much like the vampire who waited for me impatiently in the study.

I turned left and paused again in the doorway of the office, drinking in the sight of Bill, my eyes probably giving away my pleasure though I kept my face impassive. His pale skin glowed in the lamplight, a furrow of annoyance marring his high forehead. He wore a lightweight blue-grey suit that brought out the icy brightness of his eyes, the same suit he had worn on television tonight as I watched him on the news, proud and bemused at his calm demeanour, his silver tongued eloquence, the power emanating from him in waves, charming the newscaster out of her panties and a few thousand other women besides.

Ignoring me for a full minute, he flicked through the stack of papers in front of him, the sight of his elegant, slim fingers caressing the pages making the heat in my loins bubble restlessly. I saw his nose twitch slightly, scenting my arousal in the air, and the heat rose to my cheeks. 'You are late,' he said coolly, finally looking up, a flash of sweetness in his blue eyes as he took in the sight of me quickly damped down, hidden by a film of dark intensity.

'I'm sorry,' I said with a pout and a flick of my loose hair, not looking or sounding sorry at all. Everything about me was designed to provoke; the defiance in my face, the red shirt open to expose the swell of my breasts, my painted lips, the glimpse of stockings under the hem of my tight satin skirt. Asking for trouble and hoping to get it. He knew me, every single inch of me, knew how to play the game to perfection, travel the blurred line between love and hate, pleasure and pain, satisfying the black streak of sin that was an essential part of who and what he was, and taking me to places I never thought I would go.

On a different night, he would have stood and held out his arms to me, but this time he merely pushed back his leather office chair from the desk, raising one long finger to beckon me imperiously, slouching back in his seat like a lord. With as much grace as I could muster I approached, sliding in between the gap of the desk and his chair, my body a soft, submissive armful of human warmth, begging to be plundered and used and abused, but my face a mask of icy disdain to match his. Roughly he drew me onto his lap, his body so hard and cold, his hands possessive and knowing, skimming the curves of waist and hip, cupping my buttocks to draw me closer in, finding out instantly I was bare underneath the tight skirt, his face dipping to hide within the valley of my breasts, muffling his nasty words.

'You look like a cheap whore,' he rumbled. 'I hope no one saw you dressed in this attire, for only I should know how much of a little whore you are.'

His fingers grasped the front of my shirt, making the buttons pop, the small sound quickly followed by my urgent moan, the snick of his fangs descending, my hands running restlessly through his thick, dark hair, disobeying the rule about touching unless given permission. The twin points of his fangs scraped over the fluttering pulse in my throat, his hands like iron claws, crushing me so tight against his broad chest I could barely breathe. I thought about all the preparation I had put into tonight, cleansing myself inside and out, taking vitamins and eating healthy food so he could feed on me repeatedly, psyching myself up for the delicious ordeal. I thought about the drawer, the bottom drawer in his desk, the items that waited there to be used on nights like this, and what could possibly lie in store for me.

I ley out another low, desperate moan, tipping my head back as his mouth travelled back to my breasts, his chill fingers scooping the soft, heavy mounds out of the lace cups of my bra, his beautiful, cruel lips closing around one stiff nipple, not sucking gently but biting down hard, drawing sweet, hot blood in a burst of pain. His other hand found my wetness, three fingers delving deep inside me, plunging in and out slickly but painfully, making me wriggle and cry out in protest. Distracted by the bliss of feeding, he didn't notice it at first, the surprise I had for him down there. He grunted in satisfaction and pulled hard on my breast, his thumb circling my clit, then broke away, swiping his tongue over the leaking holes to stop the blood flow, his eyes hazy with pleasure as he looked up into my flaming face.

'I do not think I will gag you tonight,' he mused. 'I am enjoying the noises you make too much, and there is no one around to hear your screams.'

My body went rigid as his fingers withdrew from me, slipping down between my buttocks, curiously probing and finding it, the surprise. The soft look in his achingly handsome face was wiped away, his jaw tightened and his eyes flared with heat. Suddenly I was up off his lap and flung on my face across the breadth of his desk, papers and pens flying, the breath whooshing out of my lungs as I landed hard. Bill was standing behind me, his hands ripping away my skirt like so much tissue paper, his knee pushing my legs wide apart. I gritted my teeth against my fear and shame and presented myself to him, letting go any reserve and lame ladylike principles I had left in me, immersing myself in the role of whore and slave and letting him assume the role of master.

I had put the black, curved latex plug inside myself before I left the house, knowing it would inflame him, its foreign presence inside me uncomfortable and yet pleasurable. It wasn't very big, but it had hurt like hell, and it hurt me again as he toyed with it, pulling it out slightly to stretch my muscles anew. 'What is this obscene implement?' He enquired with menace,. I was too tongue tied to speak, so he raised his hand to slap me across the ass, the sharp sting making me gasp. 'Answer me.'

Before he could hit me again I told him, my voice breathy and uneven as his deft fingers turned the plug within me. 'And tell me why you put this inside yourself for me to find,' he said, his thick, rich voice like poisoned honey. Another slap cracked across my ass, I jumped and sobbed and confessed, not the obvious truth, that I wanted to make him mad so he would punish me, that I wanted to excite him with a slut's trick to push him right over the edge.

'I...I thought if I played with myself a little it would relax me,' I whispered. 'That I would be ready to take your cock inside me. It hurts so bad when you fuck me in that way, I was afraid...I am sorry, please don't punish me.' All lies, lies designed to excite, to invite what I loved but was too ashamed to admit, even in roleplay like this.

'You know you are not permitted to play with yourself before our assignations,' he hissed angrily. 'I see you need another lesson on how to properly submit to me.' I whimpered in utter delight and apprehension as I heard the bottom drawer slide open, a surge of warmth between my splayed thighs making my juices seep from my core, onto the surface of the desk like the dirty girl I was. I moaned in gratitude when I felt his fingers enter me again, three then four, opening me wide. I ground myself against his hand, chasing my first orgasm of the night, but he wrenched the sweet friction away from me. 'You are so very wet for me,' he crooned. 'But you know the rules, sweetheart. There is no pleasure without pain. Twelve strokes of the strap for your willful disobedience, then I may let you come.'

My stomach dropped in fear, and I reached out to grip the edge of the desk, bracing myself, my burning cheek laid against the ink blotter under my face and naked breasts. Behind my closed lids I pictured the strap, a length of stiff black leather wielded by hands that could kill me with such a beating, but wielded with skill and care merely stirred my senses to total wildness. Still though, I thought of the safe word we had agreed together, held it ready on my lips in case I could not take it.

As the first blow came my eyes flew open and I screamed and arched upwards, and I caught a glimpse of Bill reflected in the shuttered window glass, still immaculately dressed, his fangs exposed in a serene smirk as he admired me spread out before him, rumpled and exposed and opened, my head bowed, my fingers digging into the edge of the desk. I reeled at the sight of my submission and the pain, so piercing and sweet, sobbing wordlessly as he beat me, interspersing the hard blows with whispered words of ownership, skilled fingers teasing my swollen clit, dipping inside me, drawing the plug free from my tight ass and pushing it back to stretch me again.

Each stroke was like a lightning flash of agony, and by the time the twelfth and final blow descended on my striped and burning flesh I was desperate for relief. I begged for it to stop, wished for his thick, long cock inside my depths, for his hands holding my hips in a pincing grip as he filled me, letting me come hard and grip him in a tight, rippling embrace, but I knew it was useless. I would get what I needed, but not how I asked for it. It was always this way when I let him take control.

I heard the drawer again, sliding open, then the feel of a blunt object threatening me, thick headed and instantly familiar, running over my spread folds, slotting between them and pausing just inside my entrance. I cried out in denial, hating him at that moment for giving me the toy instead of himself, but I took it all, the feel of it sliding slickly past my walls and filling me completely, pressing against the the limit of my depths an invasion, bruising me again and again with each vicious thrust.

The low growl in my tormentor's throat was answered by my wail of twisted fulfillment, I came, unable to hold on any longer, spiralling down into the darkness, my body jerking on the desk top in frenzied spasms, the blinding ache in my loins splitting into shards of black bliss.

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><p>Bill gave me a minute to recover, laying a cool hand on my cheek and smoothing back my rumpled hair. A brief interlude of tenderness, a murmured endearment, but then the same hand squeezed my flaming bottom and adjusted the toy so it remained buried inside me. His hunger was like a live thing; and electrical charge in the air, a dense, spicy scent in my nose. I knew he was as hard as a rock, his muscles coiled and taut as wire, the bloodlust itching at his throat, all his nastiest vampire impulses brought out by the game but held fiercely in check.<p>

I sensed him shudder and move away abruptly, returning to his chair, the telltale clink of his belt buckle and the rustle of clothing signalling that he would have me relieve him with my mouth, leaving him able to last all night within my tight embrace when he finally took me, if he wanted to. 'Get up and get on your knees,' he said roughly. 'I do not need to remind you to leave your toys inside yourself until I say so.'

Trembling and weak, I rose from the desk, turning and falling to my knees in front of his chair, and my hands reached for him, running up his thighs, enjoying the feel of rough hair over marble skin. My eyes rose to meet his as I scooted forward to take his cock in my hot mouth, my smeared red lips parting to kiss and engulf the pink, engorged head, the musky, secret scent of his maleness making the needy ache in my loins return, despite the heavy, discomforting intrusion of the cruel toys within my sore flesh.

My lips descended slowly, my throat relaxing so I could swallow him completely as I had been taught, one hand reaching to cup and squeeze the soft weight of his balls as I worked him, my mouth wet with saliva to ease its path. It was now his turn to moan and shift under my touch, giving in for awhile, his hand twisting my hair out of the way so he could watch me serve him but not forcing himself on me, not yet. I let his thick length pop free so I could breathe freely for a moment, my tongue tracing the lovely shape of him, licking at the pink droplets that gathered at the tip, running along the underside to reach his balls, my hands pushing his thighs wide so I could access them, delicately taking one, then the other in my attentive mouth.

He hissed and growled like the animal he was, his eyes deep, dark pools as I glanced up into his face, my teeth sinking sharply into his sensitive flesh, my own eyes glinting with fresh defiance as I shifted on my knees, pressing my legs together to catch the rough friction of the dildo inside me, wishing it was his cock.

He snarled and yanked at my hair, pulling me away from my teasing, and forced his cock between my lips again. I struggled to get away but he pushed my head down. I fought to relax my throat so I wouldn't choke, whimpering and whining, but then I found the rhythm, my jaw aching and eyes watering but obedient, letting him fuck my mouth, using my hair to move me, my nails digging into his hips as he arched off the seat, groaning and breathing hard. 'Good girl, such a good girl...take it all, my sweet whore...swallow it.'

By now I was groaning too, pushing myself down onto the toy, impaling and abasing myself completely, fresh juices leaking from my greedy core, and when he gave a hoarse shout and began pumping furiously into my mouth I gave a muffled, eager cry of pleasure, feeling him let go, his thick, sweet come filling my throat, feeling like I could come with him from the satisfaction of pleasing him so well.

At the last spurt of his nectar I pulled away from his weakening grasp, freeing his twitching cock and raising my head so he could watch me swallow what he gave me as he slumped backwards in his chair, his white face not flushed in the slightest but his eyes glassy and black, his jaw now relaxed, that sly, sexy smirk appearing on his lips. I waited patiently on the floor at his feet, sore and burning, my belly cramping with raw need, and after a while his hand fell on my shoulder and he drew me up on unsteady feet. 'Get on the desk and spread those pretty legs for me,' he drawled. 'I'm going to take care of you, just how you like it.'

I shrugged the ripped shirt from my shoulders and slid my bottom on the desk top, leaning back on my hands and opening my thighs, my stockinged feet balancing on the edge, displaying my pink, swollen flesh and the black toys all snug inside me. His gaze was as intent as a hawk's as he watched me pose shamelessly, my own eyes inviting him to touch, to taste. Instead he answered by starting to undress slowly and deliberately, making me wait as he folded his suit jacket neatly over the back of his office chair, loosening the silk tie, his fingers dancing over the buttons of his black shirt, twisting free the gold cufflinks at his slim wrists.

As always I caught my breath at the sight of his hard, sculpted nakedness, the ropes of muscle in his arms and chest leading to a flat, furred stomach, slim hips and strong thighs framing his substantial erection, still intimidating and huge despite coming in my mouth only minutes before. Smirking at my avid gaze he sat down in the chair, rolling it forward so he came to rest between my legs. 'You look delightfully wanton and good enough to eat, sweetheart,' he purred, his cold hands grasping at my thighs to pull me to him, my bottom perching at the edge of the desk. 'But I expect you want me to remove these?'

'Oh yes please, sir,' I whispered, gasping in pain and relief when he gently eased the dildo from me first, placing it on the floor, then the plug. I looked down the length of my body to see myself gaping and glistening under his hovering mouth, his hands on either side of my aching flesh, parting it wide.

He made a purring, very feline sound in his throat, retracting his fangs so he could attend to me completely. 'Mmm, you're open for me like a beautiful flower,' he said, then dipped his tongue to sample my flavour, delicately circling my clit and starting off a stream of moans and whimpers in my throat before burying his face in me, penetrating me with his skilled tongue, two fingers slipping down to spread my juices over my ass, the digits entering me with ease and causing only delight as they wriggled within me.

It was so good I thought I would die, or at least let go then and there, but I fought hard, whining as if tortured as the pleasure rose higher and higher. He devoured me with his lips and tongue and hands, making a meal of my delicate flesh. My juices smeared his face along with trickles of his own blood as he raised his head to show me how he bit his tongue to make it flow, then bent to put it inside me, pushing his tongue deep in my core and then again in my ass, healing me so he could hurt me all over again. As my cries grew louder and the beat of my artery close to his ear became faster, he chided me in his cool, dark voice, telling me to control myself, reminding me I was to come at his pleasure only, that my orgasms were strictly controlled, to be wrenched from me when he willed it.

A sharp slap across my loins in warning made me sob, my teeth gritting as I fought to hold myself on the plateau just a little longer. I focused on watching him closely, his pink tongue licking me from his lips, his hand pushing my thigh flat against the desk, his fangs emerging, long and razor sharp and poised. His other hand eased inside my centre one finger at a time, the exquisite pressure increasing with each digit. I could no longer hold myself up on my hands, I fell backwards in surrender, bracing myself for the tearing pleasure.

The moment he bit into my thigh, drawing a mouthful of gushing blood with a shuddering moan, the hand within my aching walls curled into a fist, moving gently but relentlessly forward. I had never felt so full, I had never felt so close to going completely mad, in agony at my own shamelessness as I writhed and spread myself wider to take the assault, then came hard, a crashing tidal wave of terrifying release, my blood drawn from my imprisoned thigh in greedy slurps as my rended muscles grabbed and sucked and I screamed and shook, sweat blooming on my brow and trickling between my breasts.

He was right, I was a dirty, filthy whore, loving every minute of my abasement, a smile on my lips even as I flinched at the hand easing from me carefully, leaving me bruised and red and raw, flinched away from the sight of my blood dripping onto the desk and staining his mouth as he pulled away reluctantly from its siren's call. In this mood I knew the urge to drain me was very strong in my dark lover, so I was relieved when he lapped at the puncture marks to stop the flow, his contorted face flinching then relaxing as he pulled back and calmed himself down. Myself, I was an emotional and physical wreck, barely able to raise an arm from the desk, let alone the rest of me, but it wasn't over, not nearly.

I closed my eyes to the sight of him standing over me, the feel of his hands skimming over the soft rise of my belly, weighing my breasts, his lips laying a trail of grateful kisses to follow. But when I sensed his face coming close to mine I finally opened my heavy lids, reviving at the warmth spilling from his eyes, impossibly blue again, compelling and very persuasive. No matter what he inflicted on me it always came to this, me giving in and inviting the finale, for I wanted it bad. Without being asked I wrapped my legs around his hips, my nails sinking into the smooth skin of his back as he raised me up. The feel of his cock slipping between my folds, nudging against my entrance, made me roll my hips against him, and brought my lips down on his in a daring kiss.

'Come on, sweetheart, tell me what you want me to do to you,' he whispered, low and thick in my ear, rubbing the head of his cock in my juices.

My face burned with a sudden blush but I made myself say what was in my buzzing head, desperate for him to take what was his. 'I am yours, every single bit of me,' I breathed. 'I'm your slut who deserves to be punished, so punish me...I want your big, hard cock in my ass. I want you to fuck me deep and hard so it hurts, please sir.'

'Good girl,' he hissed, snatching at my hair to force me to look him in the face. 'Let me see those eyes of yours, oh yes, that's it...oh you're so exquisite.'

I cried out at the confusing blend of pain and pleasure that burned through my senses as he eased his length inside me, inch by slow inch. Ever since the first time he had initiated me into this kind of sex I had marveled at how it could make me feel so amazing and yet so agonised, thinking that I couldn't bear it but wanting more and more. I keened in my throat like a trapped animal and bounced on the thick presence inside me, urging him deeper, wrenching myself wider to accommodate his girth. He snarled at me and lifted me off the desk, angling my hips and nearly withdrawing entirely then dropping me back down, filling me completely and causing me to scream and rake my nails down his back.

I focused on the pain, the burning fullness of him stretching me, plumbing my depths repeatedly, trying to stop myself from coming, but the pain faded fast, leaving only howling, frenzied pleasure. Suddenly I was back on the hard expanse of the desk, bent double with my legs over my head with a beast ravaging me, telling me as I climaxed around him, screeching my head off, that I was so tight and hot and sweet around him, that he was going to fuck my ass until I could come no more. The orgasm was quick and violent, and I had no respite, a new one building in my tortured body as his fingers tweaked my throbbing clit, the slap of his pelvis hitting my spread buttocks, the rasp of his unnecessary breaths, his grunts of satisfaction showing me he was in deadly earnest.

He fell silent, no longer able to assault my ears with words, a blank yet totally focused look appearing on his face. Just as I was about to explode again, tightening my ass around his shaft, he growled and withdrew in a rush, flipping me over on my face and laying two sharp slaps on my upturned bottom before tearing into me again, a hand gripping my shoulder for leverage. The pain returned, the angle of his cock plunging to its limit with each smooth stroke, the speed of his movements completely and utterly overwhelming. I screamed and sobbed even as I revelled in the punishing thrusts, my implicit trust in him wavering, the safe word begging to be spoken aloud, but then his hand was between my legs, playing me expertly, drawing the threads of pain and pleasure together to become whole and perfect, oh so perfect.

My body arched off the desk, my neck tilted to receive his bite as he began to jerk helplessly within my taut clasp, and then I knew nothing but felt everything; falling, falling into that warm sea of buffeting waves, treacherous black currents pulling me to and fro, dragging him down with me into the inky depths, my blood in his mouth, my release matching his with every ripple and throb of ecstasy.

Something that felt so damn wonderful could never be wrong, regardless of how we playacted for the amusement of our bodies and minds, to explore the dark, sick side of ourselves, this little game of surrender. Pure happiness swelled my heart to bursting as I felt him collapse on top of me, literally a dead weight, confident that a bath would soon follow, washing away all the blood and delicious sin, and caresses and kisses and solicitous attention. My dark vampire, my lover, my trusted friend, and my complete slave once more.

Until next time.

FIN


End file.
